The next day, Audi Motors' first Five-Star Crash Test officially began.
The event was open to the public and broadcast live worldwide to ensure fairness and transparency.
It wasn't just a product test—it had become the most-watched moment in the automotive industry's history.
Ironically, the livestream wasn't Haifeng's idea—it came from the foreign brands themselves.
Haifeng wasn't about to stop them if they wanted to humiliate themselves in front of the world.
It was the perfect chance to put Audi on the map permanently.
All the participating automotive giants had arrived at the test center in Piaocheng.
Each one had come prepared. Every brand brought a specially built crash vehicle—a one-off model tweaked just enough to inflate safety results.
They were confident Audi wouldn't hit five stars. They were banking on it.
They'd run their tests using Audi's five-star standard. The result?
Even their custom test builds maxed out at four stars. Production models sold to consumers wouldn't even hit three.
And how could Audi pull it off if their hand-crafted "cheat cars" couldn't make it?
That was their logic.
They laughed. Mocked. Smirked.
None of them considered that the stock Audi A4 might pass where theirs couldn't.
What they didn't realize: Haifeng had already accounted for their tricks.
He didn't need proof. He could see it coming from a mile away.
Let them cheat. Let them lie. True strength didn't need tricks.
Unless they rolled out military-grade armored cars, their test vehicles wouldn't hold up, and consumers wouldn't be fooled.
When the results came out, someone would compare them to the public models. If the gap were too wide, the backlash would be instant.
And in this age of live comments, watchdog channels, and teardown reviews?
There was no hiding.
Several executives clustered at the testing site, chuckling with thinly disguised contempt.
Dieter Schopf, from BMW, sneered.
"I'll give them this—the venue's well arranged. Better than I expected from a rookie brand."
David Mason, from Porsche, nodded.
"I figured they'd be scrambling. Looks like they had help. Still, the outcome won't change."
"I'm genuinely curious, though—how many stars are you getting on your test units?"
"Four stars," one said immediately. "Same here."
"Let's be honest—no civilian car on earth is cracking five stars under Audi's metrics. Even four-star is impressive."
They all nodded.
"No way Audi clears four. I'll bet they don't even hit that."
"When the test drops and the numbers flop, watch the cancellations fly. Tens of thousands of orders gone overnight."
They laughed—loud, smug, unified.
On the other side of the test track, Zhao Jianhua stood beside Haifeng, frowning as he watched the crowd of smug executives.
"They're scheming," Zhao said quietly. "Just look at their faces. They think we don't belong here."
Haifeng didn't look over. He didn't need to.
"Let them laugh," he said. "We're the thorn in their side now. It's only natural they'd huddle up to plot."
"But they don't realize—they're being hunted today."
Zhao exhaled and gave a short nod.
"Right. I'll let them know we're ready to start. No delays."
Ten automakers had signed up for the test. This was the first time all their top decision-makers had gathered in one place.
And the air was thick with tension.
Years ago, China's domestic market was its playground. They jacked up prices, delayed launches, and treated Chinese customers like second-class buyers.
Then Audi arrived—and took that control away.
The companies that once dictated the rules were forced to show up, smile, and compete on Chinese terms.
And they hated it.